


What Was the Last Book You Read?

by rebel_diamond



Series: Love on Ice [4]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 14:37:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14167035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebel_diamond/pseuds/rebel_diamond
Summary: Written in the final hours of March for A Monthly Rumbelleing’s March Smut Prompt: Having a wet dream and calling the other’s name during it. Part of the Love on Ice series.Part of the Love on Ice series wherein disgraced ex-pairs figure skater Gold is hired to coach ice princess Belle and her partner Gaston to the Olympics. If Gold and Belle don’t kill each other first.





	What Was the Last Book You Read?

Belle poked at her baked potato. Down at the far end of the table her father sat finishing his own dinner. The seat to Belle’s right, her mother’s chair, perched empty. She was no longer well enough to regularly join them for meals. With her mother’s effervescent presence removed, the large house felt hollow. Usually Belle did her best to fill the emotional void but tonight she was preoccupied going over an argument she’d had with Gold.

She stabbed her potato with her fork, “Ugh!”

“Belle,” Moe looked up from his plate, alarmed, “what’s wrong?” 

She met his concern with her own raised eyebrows. She hadn’t realized she’d voiced her frustration aloud. She tried to hide her exasperation, but tonight she just couldn’t. Her silverware clattered to the table. “It’s that insufferable man!”

Moe was confused, “Gaston?”

“What?” she responded distractedly. “No, Gold,” she clarified, dropping the title. “Won’t even let us call him by his first name,” she muttered. She caught her father’s perplexed stare. She took a deep breath, “All he does is point out the things I do wrong. I never do anything right.” After showing him the Moulin Rogue program she’d been working on, he grudgingly admitted that it was a good start to a program that suited them a better. Though that didn’t mean he hadn’t picked it apart. Yes, his suggestions had improved the choreography. But he could have been nicer about it. She thought they could work on the program together but that would require him to yield a little, something she wasn’t sure he was capable of.

“Belle,” Moe began, settling himself in for a difficult topic. “Gaston told me you haven’t been happy lately. Is it Mr. Gold? Do you want me to fire him? I will, if it would make you happier. I know I made it sound dire, but we can find another coach. Millie is already juggling multiple teams but maybe she’ll make an exception…”

“No,” Belle blurted, imagining Millie’s overmade face and fur coats waiting for her when she got off the ice instead of Gold’s cocky self-satisfaction with the sad center and all the complexities that went with him. “No, no I…don’t want to get rid of him,” she finished meekly. She pushed back her chair, “May I be excused?” 

Moe smiled sympathetically, “Of course.”

Belle rose to head up to her bedroom for the night. Maybe she’d read for a while to get her mind off things. “Good night, dad.”

“Good night, princess,” 

The next day, Belle boosted herself onto the massage table in the training room. Gaston preferred the sauna after practice but Belle favored the training room where she could chat with the physical therapist about his wife and kids while he saw to her overtaxed muscles. As much as Belle loved skating, it surrounded her with the same monomaniacal people and she thirsted for diversity, even if it took place in her own town. The mundane thrilled her, like the account of a recent Storybrooke festival he regaled her with which she’d missed while away at a competition. 

The doors to the training room banged open making them jump. Gold stood framed in the doorway, his eyes immediately locking on hers. “Out,” he demanded without looking at the physical therapist, who quietly disappeared. 

The rest of him looked just as composed as ever, yet his eyes were visibly agitated. She’d been more flippant than usual during practice. She’d even went so far as to call, “Come out onto the ice and make me,” because she knew he never would.

Without saying a word, he approached and took over where the trainer left off, hooking her right leg over his right shoulder and pushing her knee to her chest. Belle was accustomed to being touched by trainers, physical therapists, coaches, and doctors but, unlike the others, his touch startled her at the intimacy of it. “You were particularly mouthy today,” he told her.

She cleared her head and forced her features into a bored, cool countenance, “You were rude.” He straightened her leg, pushing it over her head, bringing his face closer to hers. She stared at the long, soft looking hair framing his face. It was the closest they’d ever been. Despite his scruff and general unkempt appearance he smelled of soap and leather and the faintest scent of smoke, but sweet like cigars.

“You’re trying my patience, dearie,” he warned, massaging her calf. He wasn’t mad so much as like a rubber band right before it snaps. He pushed further into the stretch past the point of feeling good. The tension complimented the knot in her belly.

“You’re trying mine,” she grunted through the discomfort, her hips lifting from the table to ease the muscle strain. His hips were to the side of the table. If he’d place her leg on his left shoulder instead, she would have made contact with his body. He gripped her hip, steadying it on the table, and massaged there, loosening her hip flexor. Belle felt another, deeper part of her flex in response.

“I don’t think you understand how this dynamic works,” he bent her knee again and swept it across her body. “I tell you to do something,” his hand was anchored on the waistband of her leggings, his fingers spread across her backside, “you say ‘Yes, sir.’” He clutched her harder, his thumb skimming under her shirt and gliding over her hot skin, “And do it.” 

“Yes, sir,” she repeated, meaning it to sound mocking but there was only the smallest hint of a question mark at the end. All she had really wanted to do is try the words out on her lips. She felt a warm rush to her lower abdomen.

He drew in a sharp breath at her words and stilled, letting her go like she’d burned him. Her legs, like jelly, fell open. Her hips shifted again, this time seeking to ease an ache she couldn’t identify.

He tilted his head and looked at her curiously. Her face burned under his scrutiny and she struggled to keep eye contact. Belle didn’t dare blink. She knew it would break the delicate spell they were under. She swallowed and lifted her hips again, this time keeping them up in the air. She wasn’t entirely sure what she was asking for. 

In a trance he approached her again. This time his hands were unsure. He gripped both her hips in his hands and curved his thumbs into the waistband of her leggings and panties and stopped. She said nothing.

“Is this what you want?” His voice was strange, a wavering she’d never heard from him before.

But her voice rung out strong and clear in the training room, “Yes.”

In one long tug he slipped them both off her. The cool air made her shiver before his gaze upon her naked lower body made her whole body warm. He flicked his hair out of his eyes. He looked hungry and dangerous.

This must be what being drunk feels like, she thought. She wouldn’t know from experience. She’d followed a strict program her entire youth that didn’t leave much time, let alone unsupervised time, for anything besides skating. But all thoughts of inexperience of any kind fled her mind as it returned to the experience she was having. 

He was between her legs, nuzzling her stomach. His hair was just as silky as she imagined caressing her skin but she wasn’t daring enough to touch him. Instead she clenched the sides of the table hard. His nose skimmed further down her torso and even if she wanted to be self-conscious, her lower half was completely at his mercy. She stared unseeing at the ceiling when she felt a wetness she knew wasn’t her own between her legs. He was licking her. There. Ohgodohgodohgod. She didn’t know whether she was babbling out loud or not. She felt his fingers on her, spreading her folds, and she stiffened until his mouth returned to her. And then he nibbled on the most sensitive spot she’d only ever found alone in the dark.  
“Gold!” Belle gasped, jackknifing into a sitting position. The training room was gone. Gold was gone. The cloud of lust slowly lifted. She was under her canopy bed surrounded by the bright colors and heart shaped pillows of her childhood bedroom. She could feel her heartbeat throbbing in her neck. Her breathing evened out. The warm lapping of Gold’s tongue replaced by uncomfortably cold and wet panties. Her paperback romance lay at her side, creased where she’d fallen asleep reading.


End file.
